Tears Run Cold
by Nordic-Chihuahua
Summary: A fic about sadness and rejection. Only my second one, pleas r/r. Hermione/Oliver Wood *Now with sequel*
1. Tears Run Cold

Tears Run Cold  
  
The waiting was the main problem of it all. If there was one thing he couldn't stand, it was the waiting. He had waited to get his letter to Hogwarts, he had waited to get on his house's quidditch team, he was waiting at that very moment. This time was different though. This time, he was waiting for her. Waiting for her to answer him. This was the worst type of wait of all. This was the wait that really determined the rest of his life. But who was he kidding? She was a free spirit, no one like her would ever consent to being a Quidditch wife. He hugged his knees anxiously against his chest and silenced the skeptical thoughts in his head. He loved her, and hoped she would also love him enough to say yes. But what would a yes do for him? Why it would make him happy for ever, wouldn't it? He thought so at least. But one could never be quite sure of these things. He felt so uncertain of himself.  
  
Now he knew how it felt to be the one waiting. Waiting for her answer for a change. She was in charge this time, in charge over him perhaps, but her own feelings were a completely different matter. She still didn't know what she would say to him, how she would react to his proposition. How would she react? What would she say? What was there to say? Not all that much it seemed, as she was simply sitting there, next to him, on the rock by the lake, thinking it over. It should have been an easy decision, he was supposed to be the love of her life. So why was she so unsure?  
  
He looked back, in her second year, he had hit on her mercilessly. She had been completely oblivious to his advances. She was such an innocent back then, she still was.  
  
She'd gone about things all wrong when she was younger, didn't know how to cope with him. Sure, he was hot back then, was even more so now, but she'd flown off the handle. She liked him, had since she'd met him. Hell, at the moment, she could almost wager that she loved him. Back then though, she hadn't been so sure. Yeah, it was the same old story, girl meets boy, girl likes boy and doesn't tell him, boy hits on girl, girl doesn't notice, someone tells girl that boy is hitting on girl, girl gets confident, goes about telling boy she likes him all the wrong way, boy teases girl mercilessly about it for the rest of the year.  
  
Of course, the year after that, he had stayed away from her for quite a long time. But whenever he saw her in the halls, he couldn't help but notice how pretty she was looking.  
  
She noticed that he had changed his hair over the summer, she liked it. A lot.  
  
About halfway through the year, he got up the nerve to try it again, you know, the whole "I'm gonna walk past you quite often and whisper audibly to my friend just how pretty you are".  
  
She saw through his plan, it was so transparent. But it worked. She went to all the Quidditch games, sate right behind his goal posts. Stared at his back for huge amounts of time at once. Every time. But she didn't have the courage to put her heart on the line again.  
  
She had seemed to be responding to him, but then it had all just stopped. Sure, she went to the games, but that was the extent of it. That was all there was. They won the cup that year. She was in the crowd that day, but maybe it was for her other friends who were on the team. She was so young that whole time. Sure, she was smart for her age, but not smart in the ways of the world, she didn't know what to do, never had.  
  
He graduated that year, went to play quidditch professionally. He was good, and had an adoring bunch of fans who thought the same. She wasn't one of them. He rationalized. She wouldn't sink to that level, join the fan club, scream his name at the games. She was too good for that.  
  
That wasn't the reason. She couldn't stand to see him. She had screwed everything up. She knew that, or at least thought that.  
  
Really, it wasn't her fault. He'd tried pressuring her, sweet talking, all his tricks. He was a nice guy really, but wasn't really sure what to do back then.  
  
Now she was graduated, the ceremony had been that afternoon. It had been three, maybe four years since they'd seen each other, and he was back.  
  
He wanted her to know that he still liked her, loved her even. And even when he asked it was out of the blue. He didn't know what he was doing, but it felt right somehow.  
  
So here she was, thinking about it. Why would she be thinking about it? They hadn't seen each other in years, and had never even gone out.  
  
He hated to admit it, but he had cried. Cried night after night over the loss of her.  
  
She'd cried too. Still convinced that she had been the one to mess things up, her tears had run hot, and then cold as her heart mirrored the tears.  
  
He wanted her to say yes so badly. Didn't know why, only that he loved her.  
  
She thought more, it must be an agonizing wait for him.  
  
It was.  
  
"Sorry."  
  
That was it. She had walked out of his life, just like that, a bland expression on her face. Amazing how she held the power to crush someone in one word. That was it, sorry. 


	2. Sequel: You Belong to Me

You Belong to Me  
  
So there he was, finally off the reserve team. This had to be the proudest day of his life... Counting back, it must be what, eight years since he had graduated... That had to be it. 25, not exactly the youngest professional Keeper ever, but it wasn't too bad. So this was it, this was the big time. He could see every seat in the stands from up here. It was a giant, glorious mish-mash of brightly coloured pennants and people in sweaters in his team's colours. What a wonderfull sensation, all of these people were relying on him to keep the Quaffle out of the hoops. He would get glory and happiness out of being the hero. He was the hero this time around. He'd gone to school with a hero, if only for three years... The boy who lived, the hero at Quidditch, the hero at everything. Well, now he was the hero, not just some old fanatical team captain at Hogwarts, but a professional Keeper. The stands were very full, and that was when he caught sight of her.  
  
She was at a Quidditch game, an actual Quidditch game. This was the first one that she had attended since she had graduated from Hogwarts four years ago. She was 21, and still a student. But this wasn't just any school, who would have thought that she's make it into a Wizarding University? Well, lots of people perhaps... She had been Head Girl and all...  
  
She was with someone. Who could it be? A brother? No, he could have sworn she was an only child... Her father? Much too young. A friend, that was it, it had to be a friend. She'd always had male friends, her two best friends were anything but girls...  
  
And she was happy. Happy for a change. This was new, she'd been happy before, but never that gushy, mushy happy that makes you float on clouds. This was the first time that she had actually been in LOVE with someone. Sure, she had loved people, but this was different, this was the kind of love that makes you want to build castles in the sky and recite poetry by candlelight. This felt so right. Yes, she was happy. Really and truely happy.  
  
Shy looked happy at least. And if she was happy, then he would have to be happy. But then, why had he been so extatic before? Before he had caught sight of her in the crowd? His heart had jumped when he had seen her. Now he was filled with a numb sense of disbelief, because he had seen the ring, only because of the glint of some shiny stone caught in the sunlight.  
  
If she was so happy, then why did she have a nagging little tug at her heart when she looked up at the team's Keeper? She chalked it up to bad memories. Funny, she had recieved her first marriage proposal at the age of seventeen.  
  
That sight had almost caused him to fall off of his broom. Not quite though, a little more poise was expected of him if he was to be a proffessional Keeper. No, he could handle it. Besides, the game was due to start soon. No time for thoughts of her to invade his head.  
  
She had let him down rather abruptly... One word, she had been silly back then, but it had been a well chosen word all the same. But what had caused him to aske her that question in the first place? A gentle touch on her hand awoke her from her reverie. She turned and looked into the depths of her fiancé's eyes. No, scratch that, her perfect fiancé's eyes. He was perfect, perfect for her. There was no doubt about it, he cared about the same things she cared about. They worked well together. Twenty-one, and already engaged. It seemed fitting, she had always been mature for her age. Sure, he was older than her, three years older, but that was immaterial in the grand scheme of things, what did three years matter when they were in love? Love was not particular about age. He first noticed that the game had started when a Quaffle came flying in his direction. It was a close save, but at least now he wouldn't have time to think about HER anymore.  
  
The game had started, and it was a good one. She clasped her fiancé's hand and watched attentively.  
  
He was wrong, she invaded his mind none the less. It was like a slideshow of every memory he had of her. But he wouldn't let it put him off his game. No, he thought, this isn't right. You belong to me. You're mine, no one else's.  
  
The game was over, and she allowed her fiancé to lead her out of the stands by the hand. She only looked back once, he was bashing his head on the goalposts. She wondered what he was so angry about, his team had won. 


End file.
